Not His Father's Life
by moonlighttrail
Summary: There was a gap in Dallas' final hours. What happened between the hospital and the robbery while Pony was wandering? One-Shot.


Clap! The screen door to my brother's place slammed shut. It could barely be heard over the din of the music and yelling, but it was enough to draw my attention. I looked over to see Dallas Winston with the Devil in his eyes standing in the doorway. Now, it wasn't unusual at all to see Dallas around here; in fact, Buck usually kept a spare room open for him because he was here so often. Couldn't stand his own place for too long. I'd taken to staying at Buck's too. The place got on my nerves often enough, but it was still better than my parents', and no matter how shady my brother was, he always makes you feel welcome. That is if he likes you anyway. He was more than happy to have his "kid sister" around.

Dallas was still in the doorway, but his eyes were looking around frantically. After dancing around wildly, they finally landed on me. I could tell in an instant that even though Buck was throwing another one of his ragers, that wasn't what he was here for. He charged across the crowd, grabbed my arm, and pulled me up the stairs. No sooner had he slammed the bedroom door, he was all over me. Now, Dallas always did come on pretty strong, but this was different. This was wild, crazed. I pushed him back and looked at him. He'd definitely been in a fight, but that was nothing new. He didn't come out too well this time by the looks of it. Bruised, bloody, and completely unhinged with feverish eyes. I'd never seen anything like it. I didn't know if the eyes I was looking at were human or animal. It scared me to see him like this.

Dallas and I didn't exactly have what most people would call a relationship. I don't think he ever could even if he'd wanted it. We mostly got together when he was desperate to blow off some steam. He can be very... persuasive when he wants to be. I never could bring myself to tell him no. I don't think I ever saw a reason to. He was an ass, sure, but sometimes we just needed each other and it worked out alright. He added some spice to my life, and I could calm him down most of the time.

"Tell me what you need, Dallas," was all I said as I brushed his loose hair from his eyes. He just stared at me; through me, unable to make a sound. After a few seconds of just standing there with each other, he managed to choke out one word, "Johnny." Then I knew, and it made sense. The kid must be gone. It was really only a matter of time I guess. He was in real bad shape from what I'd heard. I'd never met the kid, but I knew Dallas and knew that that kid was the only thing in this world that could drive him to this level of madness. "Alright," I soothed, "Tell me what to do." "I don't want to think," was the desperate plea that rang in my ears. That scared me more than the eyes. Dallas Winston did not plead or beg. I just nodded and began helping him take his clothes off trying to be careful of his injuries. Lord, he was banged up. I was used to seeing cuts and bruises when we were together, but this time most of his ribs and back were covered in overlapping purple and red. There was even some sickly greenish yellow from the cracked ribs Tim gave him last week. How could he even stand to breathe like this? He didn't even flinch when I touched them. I gently took the gun from his waistband and laid it on the dresser. I wished he wouldn't carry it loaded or not. Dallas was too hot blooded for a gun, and my brother was the fool who gave it to him.

A few hours later, I woke up to find that he was gone. So was the gun.

A few hours after that, I would find out that Dallas Winston was dead.

A few weeks later, I would find out that I was pregnant.

A few weeks after that, I left Tulsa.

I made the decision pretty quick that I couldn't stay where I was anymore. I couldn't bring up Dallas' kid that close to where he'd lived... and died. And even though I love my brother, Buck's not a person I want around a little kid. Now, I could face all of the cold, judgemental stares from the old hags. What right did they have, anyway? I was nineteen, so older than most of them when they had their first babies. But I didn't have a ring on my finger, and that made all the difference. I'd joyfully go tell them to screw themselves. Nineteen. I was a couple years older than Dallas, but that never seemed to make much of a difference to us. It never came up, really. Most of the time he seemed older than 17 anyway, and sometimes younger depending on his mood. Like I said, it never seemed to make much of a difference with us. What I couldn't bear was turning my child into its father. And if I stayed around here, I was afraid that's exactly what would happen. So I left. I'd loved Dallas in some way, but I'd never wish his life on anyone. I packed my bags, stuck out my thumb, and caught the first ride I could.

Seven months later, Dallas Winston's son came storming into this world in a little hospital on the outskirts of Little Rock. He was a little early, but with a level of fight to rival an Oklahoma tornado. Fighting the world just like his father. "Rest now," I murmured into his shock of white-blonde hair, "You ain't gotta fight. Let me do the fighting. I promise, you ain't gonna have the same life as your daddy. You don't have to fight the world." I've never meant anything more in my life.

Soon after he was sleeping, a nurse knocked at my door. "I have the birth certificate form. Is now a good time?" I just nodded.

"Name of Mother?"

"Annie May Merrill."

"Name of Father?"

I thought I'd have to think about that, but the words came spilling out, "Dallas Tucker Winston."

The nurse looked up at me over her glasses, "Oh, I hadn't seen anyone around. Can we be expecting Mr. Winston soon?"

I shook my head,"No Ma'am," and a single tear rolled down my cheek. That was the only tear I'd ever cry for Dallas. He didn't need them, and he wouldn't want them. "He's deceased, but it's okay. It's how things were meant to be."

She just gave me a strange and almost pitying look but continued, "Name of Child?"

"Tucker Johnathan Winston," I said without hesitation.

"Are you sure?" she questioned, "It might be easier on you and the baby if he had your last name. People talk."

"I don't care," I replied,"He's not going to have his father or his father's life, but he can sure as hell have his name, and damn what people say. Tucker Johnathan Winston."


End file.
